


Finding The Savior

by mayquita



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayquita/pseuds/mayquita
Summary: Twenty-two years after the cast of the dark curse, Hook is tired of waiting. The moment he finds a way to escape from the Enchanted Forest, he sets a goal, to find The Savior and accelerate the process that will allow him to finally get his long-awaited revenge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to my mind a while ago, but I decided to focus on my other projects instead. This week, however, my muse had other ideas. I intend to return to this fic at some point but I can't promise anything. Still, maybe it could work like a one-shot?
> 
> This is unbeta’d so apologize in advance for all the mistakes.
> 
> @saraswans, you’re the best, thank you for everything.
> 
> A/N They made us believe that during the time of the dark curse, Cora and Hook remained frozen in the Enchanted Forest. After the Nemo episode, it turned out that it was just time that remained frozen, so I'm going to stuck with this idea.

**The Enchanted Forest, twenty-two years after the cast of the dark curse**

The sea breeze whipped Killian's face as The Jolly Roger sailed through the water at full speed, the sails of his precious ship dancing to the rhythm marked by the wind. Sailing had always brought him a sense of freedom. Before him, the open sea, endless destinations at his disposal. He would only have to turn the wheel and they would go in search of new and unexplored territories, new adventures, new dangers that, far from intimidating him, would make the adrenaline rush through his veins with expectation.

That feeling of power given by the sea had faded away little by little. The hundreds of years trapped in Neverland had taken its toll, but the last twenty-two years trapped under an imaginary dome at the mercy of a demon disguised as a woman had managed to drain almost every last drop of his patience. Where before he saw an infinite sea now there was only an invisible and impenetrable wall that prevented him from advancing in his desire for revenge.

He was tired of waiting. The idea that his fate depended on the success of an unknown person, _The Savior_ , was not exactly appealing. His stomach clenched in knots in frustration, an uneasiness crept over his body, preventing him from functioning properly.

Maybe for that reason, or maybe because of the overwhelming feeling of having Cora watching all his movements, always hovering around him, like a prey animal ready to jump at the slightest chance of betrayal, he decided to go sailing, hoping against hope, that, this time, he would find something, a magical item, a potion, some sorcerer, anything that would allow him to keep going and not stay stuck in this hell of Enchanted Forest.

To his amazement, his prayers were heard soon, or rather luck decided to finally give him an opportunity. Whatever the reason, he was not going to waste it. At the time he found a magic bean, he knew with complete certainty that his days under this infernal dome were numbered. It was a chance discovery, he would not remember the act as a big feat, but the result was the same. He found the bean hiding in an abandoned chest on the side of the road along with other treasures. Perhaps in another time, he would have gathered all the jewels and gold doubloons that shone in a tempting way. This time, the object that sparkled most was that little bean. The object most desired by him was now in his possession, giving him back the reins of his own destiny.

He had to suppress the urge to open a portal just at that very moment, his hand tingling due to the contact with the bean. Instead, he clenched his jaw as he curled his hand into a fist, trapping the bean inside. He tried to calm his inner anxiety, stopping his impulsiveness and keeping the mind cold. Only then could he achieve his goal. To do this, he needed Cora's help, one last push that would allow him to know all the information he needed to develop the plan that had begun to form in his mind.

This time, when he stood in front of the helm, he did it with a new determination, his steel gaze not losing sight of the horizon, all his muscles tense as his hand and hook grabbed the rudder, the magic bean well hidden in a place that only he knew, his heart thudding in his chest with anticipation.

* * *

Two days later, he walked towards Cora's chamber, carrying his passage, the object that would return him to his path of revenge, well hidden, but ready to be used immediately in case of any eventuality. Before entering, Killian took a deep breath and swallowed hard dragging down his inner turmoil.

Once in Cora's presence, he put a false grin on his lips, his features creating a mask of arrogance as he displayed his pirate swagger.

The woman studied him briefly, walking around him while commenting, "to what do I owe the honor? Are you tired of playing with that toy that you call a ship?"

Killian clenched his jaw as he bit his tongue in an attempt not to respond to the insult to his ship. Instead, he decided to bring up his ace up his sleeve. "Maybe the reason for my return is to show you a little discovery."

His nonchalant voice and tight grin seemed to get Cora's attention. She stood right in front of him without stopping her scrutiny, arms crossed over her chest. "And what would that be that might interest me?"

"Maybe there's a way to speed up the process and break the curse ahead of time." He offered, feigning a certain indifference, although his stomach clenched in knots. It was the moment of truth, though he had already decided in advance that, whatever Cora's reaction was, he was going to throw the bloody bean, even though he had to drag her along in the process. He had set himself a challenge and there would be no one who could stop him. Not now, not after having spent years and years waiting for an opportunity like this.

Cora raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head slightly. "I'm listening."

Her penetrating gaze indicated that he had managed to capture her interest.  _Good_. Now he had to maintain the facade only a few minutes more and soon he would be traveling to a new realm. He held her gaze for a while before releasing his proposal while keeping a calm voice. "I'm going to travel to the place where The Savior is and I'll find whoever that person is. I'm going to convince her or him to travel to that place..." He closed his eyes as he raised his hand and waved his fingers as if trying to remember the name of the place.

"Storybrooke?" Cora tentatively offered, her eyebrows went together in a gesture of confusion.

And here it was, just what he needed. A name. His stellar performance had paid off, he thought as he tried to keep his features straight, without showing any emotion. "Thank you, Storybrooke, that's it." He savored the name, knowing in advance that this was the place where the crocodile was hiding. "As I was saying, I can convince The Savior to break the curse, so you'll have your daughter and I'll skin myself a crocodile sooner than expected."

Cora narrowed her eyes, continuing to study him. "You forget that we are frozen in time and that there is no way to travel to another realm." Her condescending tone with a certain hint of malice, made his facade almost wobble. But now that he could almost touch his target with his fingertips, he was not going to lose his temper by being offended by this woman's words.

"Oh, but maybe there is a way." He waved his eyebrows, drawing his fake smile even wider.

"And what would that be?" Her voice became more demanding, even though, she tried to mask it with a false smile that matched his own.

"Why a magic bean, of course."

Cora's eyes widened in surprise. "You got one?"

"Perhaps..."

"Enough playing, Hook." She approached him, invading his personal space. "In case what you are telling me is true and you have, in fact, a magic bean, what makes you think that I would let you go alone?"

"With all due respect, milady, there's no magic to the place I'm going. I think you'll be safer here, while I do the dirty work. You know what I mean..." He winked at her, not letting himself be intimidated in the least.

Cora shook her head as she rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. "And why have not you left already? You don't need me, apparently."

He shrugged, showing indifference, though impatience began to grow inside him. Every second he spent talking to her was a lost second in his search. "I needed a name to direct The Savior, and you just gave it to me."

"You're playing with fire, pirate. You're not aware of the dangers out there." Her threatening tone continued, but a shadow of approval crossed her eyes. She had nothing to lose, after all. He was offering her the possibility of achieving her goal with little effort.

"I'm a survivor, I have lived worse, I assure you."

Then, Killian pulled the bean from its hiding place, but kept it out of Cora's reach, protecting it against a possible change of mind.

"You better focus on your mission, no distractions, otherwise I will find a way to get to you and make you regret your crazy proposal." She mumbled raising a threatening finger.

"Of course milady. Do you want me to say a word to your daughter from your part when I first see her?" His entire body trembled with anticipation, though he forced himself not to lose his composure. Not yet.

"It's not necessary." She rejected his suggestion with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I will be there at the same moment when the curse is broken." Her lips twisted into an evil smile. "And now hurry up, before I change my mind."

Without thinking twice, Killian tossed the bean onto the floor and a vortex opened instantly before them. Before letting himself be sucked into the portal, he gave Cora one last triumphant smile as he winked at her. If everything went well, he would not have to worry anymore about that demon. Then he jumped into the void while holding his breath.

He felt the suction instantly. While his whole body contorted and his sight was blinded by the intensity of the movement, his mind did not lose the marked objective. He muttered frantically “ _Find The Savior, find The Savior_ ”.

After a few seconds that seemed eternal he fell to the ground with a thud while the portal, and with it, his return passage, disappeared before his eyes. He barely had time to kneel and look around in an attempt to inspect the surroundings, when his eyes detected a giant contraption approaching him at full speed. The last thing he saw before being rolled over, was a yellow monstrosity that hit him brutally. Then everything went blank.

* * *

* * *

**Boston, six years later**

When Emma woke up, the morning had already announced its beginning through the rays of sunlight that filtered through the window of her bedroom. After cracking up one of her eyes, she closed it again, snuggling under the shelter of her sheets, feeling a soft warmth spread all over her body. As she was about to succumb to sleep again, a thought crossed her mind causing her to sit up with a start as her lips curled into a wide grin.

She turned her head, checking that her husband was still asleep. Maybe she should be the one receiving that kind of attention, but she didn’t hesitate to sit astride him carefully so as not to wake him up too soon. She had other plans for it that included a more pleasurable way.

She stared at his features for a moment, his long lashes stroking his cheeks, his lips parted slightly letting out a faint snore. He seemed so young in those moments, with no trace of worry, only an expression of perfect calm.  

A thought flashed through her mind, her memories traveling to those first months of their relationship, when he used to wake up in terror, drenched in sweat while mumbling nonsense after suffering one of his usual nightmares. To her relief, as their relationship settled, his nightmares became more and more sporadic to the point of disappearing almost completely.

Emma shook her head slightly, causing those thoughts to disappear and instead focused again on her goal. She leaned over him, brushing her lips against his ear as she whispered, "happy birthday to me."

Then she straightened her back, her gaze searching expectantly for his reaction. His eyes remained closed, but his lips drew a soft smile before murmuring, "indeed, happy birthday, my love."

Slightly disappointed at not being able to see his intense blue eyes yet, she insisted, tracing a path of kisses down the line of his jaw while her fingers drew delicate patterns on his bare torso. "Uhm, since today is my special day, should not I be the one receiving some unique treatment?"

Her husband chuckled softly, "let a man recover from the intense activity of the night. Or perhaps my lady was not entirely satisfied?"

Her cheeks flushed at the thought of such activities, while she still felt slightly sore in the right places. She bit her lower lip, ready to continue playing for a while longer. "I thought it was a foretaste of what was to come," she breathed on his skin, her lips a few inches from his.

"You're insatiable, woman." A low rumble escaped his lips as he opened his eyes finally, giving her that predatory look she loved so much. She could not resist it anymore, crushing her lips against his in a searing kiss.

Their moment of passion was short-lived, though. Just as their tongues began to dance together, a sound from the other side of the aisle interrupted them, breaking the spell.

"Mama? Papa?"

They both groaned in annoyance. Although their four-year-old daughter's voice still carried traces of sleep, Emma knew from previous experience that if they did not heed her call, Lizzy would run fast in search of her parents.

"It's my special day…" She mumbled against his lips as a reminder.

Her husband made a sound of disappointment as his hand squeezed his eyes. After letting out a deep sigh, he released himself from her embrace and stood up. Emma relished in the vision of his perfect naked body while he searched for his clothes scattered on the floor of their bedroom.

Before opening the door, he gave her a sparkling look full of promises, making her whole body vibrate in anticipation. "This is not over, Emma."

"I don’t doubt it for a moment, Killian."

When he disappeared in the direction of Lizzy's bedroom, she leaned back against her pillow, a contented smile remained on her lips. She had a feeling, something told her that today, the day she turned twenty-eight, would be a special and perhaps unforgettable day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the first surprised at myself for having been able to update this story in less than a month, but my muse seemed determined to work on it, so I simply let myself go. Here's the result.
> 
> A/N It's been a challenge for me to write Emma in this fic. She is 22 years old in flashbacks, which means that it's been a few years since she left prison and she hasn't met Cleo yet. Maybe she will never meet her in this story, and therefore Emma will never wear a red jacket. Or maybe yes, who knows? Also, we don't know where Emma lived those years after returning from Tallahassee, so I'm going to assume that Emma was moving around the country, and, at the time the flashback events happened, she was in Boston.
> 
> (This is unbeta’d so apologize in advance for all the mistakes)

**Boston, six years ago**

_Find the savior..._

The first minute after the impact, or maybe the first hour, or the first few days— he had lost track of time — Killian felt nothing. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but his thoughts and feelings were muffled somehow, as if his body was floating in the void, while his clouded mind prevented him from thinking clearly. Perhaps he had died and, after an act of supreme benevolence, the gods had taken pity on him and sent him to heaven.  _No_. That was not remotely possible. There was an irrefutable truth that even his clouded mind and his cotton brain were able to recognize. The moment of his death would also mean a direct passage to hell.

The next time his brain decided to function —or maybe he was just dreaming— there was something there, hidden in the recesses of his mind, maybe an idea, maybe a memory, whatever it was, it was pushing to get out the surface, but for now seemed unattainable, as if he was about to touch something but it ended up diluting in the same instant of contact with his fingertips.

The third time he left his unconsciousness, the fog in his brain seemed to have weakened, although the disturbing feeling that he was forgetting something of the utmost importance remained latent. He could almost form the words, but there were still too many clouds inside his head. There was something else on that third occasion. His eyes finally decided to work on his own allowing two small slits to open, giving him a brief access to what was happening around him. But it seemed that not only his mind was cloudy, his blurred vision only captured a distorted silhouette, a face that hovered over him, with a subtle hint of golden and green. It couldn't be an angel, could it be? He did not have time to find out since extreme fatigue seized him, forcing him to close his eyes and leaving his brain inoperative again.

There was no calm the next time. The mirage of heaven was replaced by a feeling of pure agony as a succession of images, each more terrifying than the previous one, plagued all his thoughts. His most questionable decisions, his most atrocious actions, all his crimes crossed his mind showing him an undeniable reality, hell was waiting for him. It was as if all the damage he had inflicted was turning against him, exerting a punishment difficult to bear. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He wanted to move, but his body did not collaborate with him. He simply squeezed his eyes hard, imploring anyone who was willing to hear that his nightmare would end soon. Before everything went blank again, his ears detected a muffled sound, a distorted voice that seemed to come from far away. Then, nothing.

After what seemed an eternity lost in a quiet nothingness, his brain decided to function again. He blinked a couple of times, noticing how a new sensation was pulling through him, removing any vestige of his previous torment. He felt his mind clear for the first time in what seemed like days — or maybe weeks —, consciousness returning to him, leaving behind the nightmares that had been plaguing his head lately.

The moment he opened his eyes, a white and almost blinding light caused him to close them instantly. After blinking a few more times, his eyes opened again, this time tentatively, as he began to scan his surroundings. He was in what looked like a room, white walls, white furniture, impersonal and strange. He also detected a strange smell seeping through his nostrils, a not-quite-pleasant scent that he was unable to identify. And a constant and repetitive sound, a continuous beep from a contraption, a machine to which he seemed to be chained by a cord of sorts.

His usual garments had been replaced by a kind of white and impersonal gown, its rough fabric scraping his skin so used to the softness of the leather. His hook had also disappeared, exposing the horrible stump and all its scars. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, determined to ignore for a moment the feeling of helplessness that the lack of the substitute of his left hand implied and instead he resumed the task of inspecting his surroundings with his gaze.

His eyes met a figure, a person lying in an awkward position in a kind of armchair. He couldn't see her face since it was covered by a cascade of blond hair, but given her position, he would assume that person was asleep.

Killian didn't detect the pain at first, his brain too hypervigilant, trying to process all the information gathered by his senses. The headache came gradually, from a faint pain to the feeling that someone was pressing on both sides of his head in an attempt to break the shell. He also felt difficulty breathing, as if he had an invisible weight on his chest, pressing and preventing air from reaching his lungs.

"Bloody hell..." He croaked whimpering in pain.

His whine seemed to alert his unknown companion, because, at that moment, she lifted her head, revealing the confused face of a young woman. Despite wearing spectacles, her eyes reflected perfectly the thoughts that crossed her mind at that time. She first narrowed them, looking around. When her gaze met him, her eyes widened and she leaped to her feet.

"Holy shit! Thank God you're alive!" The woman exclaimed, bringing her hands to her chest in relief as she approached his bed without any caution.

The fog in his head decided to reappear, threatening to turn his brain back into cotton. Not that he cared, not at least at this moment, when he felt so weak, exhausted and disoriented that he did not have the strength to assess who that person was. When he was about to give in to the darkness again, a fleeting thought crossed his mind, making him jump up, all his senses on alert.  _Find the savior!_

A terrifying sensation washed over him at that moment, a sense of failure creeping through his body causing his stomach to tighten into knots. He forced himself to dismiss that thought, though, refusing to accept it, not while he still had the necessary breath not to collapse. The urge to leave and continue with his mission was so powerful that he almost forgot his state.

A terrifying sensation washed over him at that moment, a sense of failure creeping through his body causing his stomach to tighten into knots. He forced himself to dismiss that thought, though, refusing to accept it, not while he still had the necessary breath not to collapse. The urge to leave and continue with his mission was so powerful that he almost forgot his state.

His mind — or maybe his throat — frantically repeated the words " _Find the savior_ " like a mantra, while he tried to sit up and let go of everything that kept tied him to that strange bed. **  
**

"Whoa, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

There were cords everywhere and it hurt like hell, a lacerating pang pierced his chest, but the urgent need to get out was more powerful.

"Calm down, buddy!"

The woman warned him as she approached tentatively, while the pang in his chest became more intense, making him wince in pain as a groan escaped his lips. Still, showing his stubbornness, he made one last attempt to get out of that kind of cage that was posing as a bed.

"Are you insane? You're gonna hurt yourself!"

Frustrated and exhausted, he dropped on the bed, at the same moment that a handful of people rushed into the room surrounding him and forcing him to stay still. The last thing his eyes detected before surrendering again to the darkness, was the woman's face, looking at him with a worried expression. Then, nothing.

The next time Killian felt conscious enough to open his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the mysterious woman, leaning against the window frame, her gaze lost somewhere on the outside. The feeling of restlessness was still latent, the frustration and desperation to get away from there and continue with his mission kept pushing him. He forced himself to keep his mind cold, though. His body was still too sore to allow him to act and he still had to figure out several aspects before carrying out his next move. One of those aspects was to find out who the hell was that woman who seemed to have taken up residence in his room.

A horrible thought crossed his mind at that moment as he unconsciously brought his hand to his head, his fingers palpating what looked like a bandage over his left eyebrow. What if the impact had been so strong as to make him lose his memory? What if that woman was a relative? Or worse, what if it was his girlfriend? or his lover? What if all the nightmares that had plagued his sleep in the last days were nothing more than a story invented by his brain while trying to recover from the impact? A spiral of panic began to creep over him as he felt his throat tighten.

_No, it can not be_. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take two deep breaths while trying to regain control. It was time to take action. He turned his head back to the woman.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded like a broken grunt, scraping his dry throat.

The woman flinched and turned at that moment. "Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me."

"Who are you?" He repeated, his voice not betraying him this time, sounding firmer. His eyes met the woman's for a moment, but she quickly looked away, making his uneasiness grow.

The door to his room opened before the woman uttered any words, giving way to a man dressed in a kind of white coat. **  
**

"Good morning Mr. Jones. How are you feeling today?" Without waiting for an answer, the man reached for a chair and sat down near his bed. Although the look the man gave him was polite enough, Killian was instantly uncomfortable because of the scrutiny he was being subjected to. The man gave off a kind of halo of authority and something told him that he had better be on good terms with him if he wanted to have the opportunity to leave that place as soon as possible.

"I'm fine, ready to leave."

"Well, I'm afraid it's still a little early for that. You suffered a severe concussion after the accident, so we still have to do some tests before you are discharged."

Killian tried to hide the disappointment that had settled in his stomach and instead offered a smirk. "Let's go then."

"First of all, I'd like to ask you a series of questions to make sure you have recovered enough from the concussion. Take your time, Mr. Jones." When the man seemed to be sure he had all his attention, he started with the questionnaire.

"What’s the last thing you remember before the accident?"

_A magic bean, a portal and the desire to find The Savior._  Killian suspected that wasn't the answer that kind of healer was looking for. He squeezed his eyes, while his brain tried to collect that last memory before everything went black.  _Yellow. A yellow contraption moving at full speed_. "The last thing I remember is a yellow monstrosity running into me."

A sound, a mixture of snorting and coughing came at that moment from the mysterious woman. Killian turned his head, giving her a questioning look. The woman's cheeks blushed as she babbled a kind of apology and turned around, refocusing her attention on the view offered by the window.

"Very good." The healer wrote something on a piece of paper attached to a tablet and continued. "Next question. What's your full name?"

_Captain Hook_. Again, he judged that it was better to keep his colorful moniker secret. "Killian Jones." Since the man had addressed him using his last name, Killian deduced that he knew the answer beforehand. The restlessness that he had begun to feel shortly after awakening was accentuated, because, how the hell could that unknown person know his name? He cast a sidelong glance at the woman, while the suspicion that she would have something to do with it increased.

"What day is today?" Killian looked at the man, not quite sure what he was asking. "Do you know what date we are on?" The man added.

_I don't have the bloodiest idea. I don't even know how time works in this bloody realm._  "No." He answered in a tone of resignation, a sigh slipping between his lips as he realized that this response was another stone on the way out of that place.

"Do you know where are we?" Again his confused gesture caused the healer to expand his question. "Do you know what city you are in?"

This time he didn't even bother to answer, he simply shook his head as he leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes. His headache was beginning to make an appearance.

"One last question. Do you know who is the president of our country?"

He had to suppress a bitter laugh. What kind of question was that? He shook his head, keeping his eyes closed.

"Well, I'm afraid we're going to have to do some tests to further evaluate the possible damage suffered. Meanwhile, try to rest as much as possible, Mr. Jones. Both your body and your mind have been severely traumatized; it will cost a bit to recover." After a brief nod, the man left the room silently.

_Bloody hell._.. He didn't need to rest. He had gone through much worse throughout his life so in no way was he going to stay prostrate in this bed like a poor convalescent. He was going to get out of there whatever it cost. Maybe the mysterious woman might offer some clue in that regard, he wondered as he turned his head in her direction. **  
**

"What kind of place is this? Is it like a healing establishment?"

The woman flinched a bit before turning around and throwing him a look of disbelief. "Like what? Whoa buddy, you really hit hard on the head."

His lips curled in an attempt to draw a smirk but a twinge of pain in his ribs caused them to twist into a grimace. "Humor me, Lass." He breathed as he tried to suppress a groan.

"It's called a hospital, and you'd better answer the questions correctly the next time if you want to have the opportunity to get out of here." The woman warned him as she approached his bed.

"Maybe you could help me in that regard, love." He suggested as he arched —or tried — an eyebrow in a seductive way. Bloody hell ...even his eyebrow hurt...

The woman rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Or maybe I could leave, now that it looks like you're not gonna die." To emphasize her words, she began to walk towards the door.

"Wait a minute!" At that moment he didn't care that his voice sounded almost like a plea. That woman was the only thread that kept his sanity in that infernal place, the only constant he had had in the last few days. To his relief, the woman stopped her advance and turned her gaze back to him, while tilting her head slightly, in a sign that she was listening.

"My name... How do they know my name?" Killian asked while directing an inquisitive look at her. He suspected that she had something to do with it. The shadow of guilt that crossed her eyes was an indication that he was not misguided in his suspicions.  
  
"About that..." The woman seemed reluctant at first, avoiding his gaze, but finally gave up. "You were unconscious when they brought you here. And I might have to search your belongings to find out your identity." She shrugged and then went to a small closet on the side of his bed. She opened the door and pulled out a shoulder bag. Killian recognized it instantly, since it was the bag in which he kept the few belongings that he had brought with him on this suicide mission. The woman searched inside without any hesitation until she found something, his log book. "Here."

> _This log book belongs to Captain Killian Jones. Anyone who dares to look inside will walk through the plank and serve as food for the maritime beasts and mermaids._

"I didn’t go over this page." The woman assured. "I didn’t want to risk being devoured by a shark or something worse."

A chuckle — the first one since he had regained consciousness — bubbled in his chest at her response and expression. He didn’t mind that the laughter gave way to a small cough, at least it had a refreshing effect on him and had subtly lightened the tension. The woman's lips rose in what looked like a tentative smile, causing her face to light up. She was beautiful, he decided, now that he could look in more detail at her features.

"The rest of your belongings and your... hook are in the closet." Her chin pointed at his stump, while she averted her eyes subtly. "Your costume was pretty awesome, by the way."

Killian ignored her comment because right at that moment the question he had asked before they were interrupted by the healer came to his memory. "Who are you?" After his little interaction with her, he could almost assure that she was a total stranger actually, but better if he got the definitive confirmation.

"I..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze locked down on her hands, her fingers playing with the hems of her shirt sleeves. "I'm the person who found you after the accident."

_Liar_. Although he still felt his mind clouded, he was able to detect the evasive attitude that betrayed her. "Try again, love." He accompanied his words with a skeptical look, implying that he was not buying her explanation.

"I'm not your love." She snapped. For all answer, he raised an eyebrow as his gaze grew even more intense. She looked away as she bit her lower lip in a nervous gesture. For a moment, he had the feeling that the woman was going to panic, running away. Fortunately, after a deep breath, she confessed. "Fine... I was the person who hit you, but in my defense, I have to say that you came out of nowhere and I didn't have time to stop the car."

"The car?"  _The yellow monstrosity?_

"Of course you don't know what a car is." She mumbled, more in an affirmative tone than in a question, as her eyes widened slightly.

"That's why you're here, then? Because do you feel guilty?"

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to die." She shrugged.

"How long have I been here?" He continued with the interrogation, not wanting to miss the opportunity now that finally, she seemed willing to collaborate and offer some light on his condition.

"Four days."

_Four days_... Killian wondered if the woman had been there all this time, not moving from the room until making sure he was going to recover. It was unusual for any person to care about his well-being, even if the reasons were somewhat selfish and guided by the weight of guilt. He felt the urge to know a little more about the mysterious person who had been watching over him during his worst moments.

"What's your name, Lass?"

The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, but finally, she looked up, her green eyes meeting his. "I'm Emma, Emma Swan."

* * *

**Boston, Present Day**

"Make a wish, mama!" Lizzy cried as she clapped, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

Emma smiled fondly at her little daughter as she allowed herself a moment to contemplate the image in front of her. They had returned home a few minutes ago after celebrating her birthday with a family dinner. Now, they had settled around the island of their kitchen, ready to continue the celebrations. A cupcake with a lighted candle was waiting to be blown as a symbol of the tradition they had established six years ago.  

That wasn’t quite true, Emma admitted to herself, with a bittersweet feeling. She had continued this tradition since she was a child, although at that time its meaning was very different. She had clung to that little hope that came every year in the form of a birthday wish. It didn't matter if she was in a group center or with foster parents. She always managed to get a cupcake and a candle — sometimes she only got a candle — while hiding in a corner away from the world, trying to avoid anything interfering with her wish.

Emma had learned early that the birthday wishes of orphaned girls didn't always come true. Still, she kept the tradition year after year, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, at some point her prayers would finally be heard.

When Emma found Killian, her birthdays stopped being lonely and her wishes unnecessary. When Lizzy came to their lives, she already had everything she needed.  _Love, stability and a future_. Despite this, she maintained the tradition as a reminder of her past experiences, of the long road she had traveled until she found happiness.

Before blowing the candle, Emma looked back at Killian and Lizzy, father and daughter wearing the same bright and very blue eyes, the same wide smiles and the same dimples. If it weren't for the golden curls that framed her daughter's angelic face, they would be identical copies. They were her family and her whole world. She didn't need anything else, her life was complete.  _Almost_. An inner voice reminded her that her life would never be complete, that there would always be a missing piece. Even so, she buried those thoughts in the most hidden corner of her memory and focused on the present, looking towards Killian for support. He gave her a reassuring smile as he nodded subtly, just the signal she needed.

After taking a deep breath she finally closed her eyes and blew the candle, mentally repeating the same wish of the last few years.  _Keep my family together and happy._

Her daughter began to applaud, bouncing excitedly in her stool, while her husband approached her and wrapped her in his arms. "Happy Birthday my love." Killian muttered as his lips brushed hers. After giving her a soft smile, he held up their daughter. "And now that the celebrations are over for now," Killian waved his eyebrows suggestively and winked at Emma, "it's time for this little lass to take her bath."

Lizzy wasn't happy about that, her lips drawing an adorable pout. Still, she pulled her father closer to Emma and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. "Love you, mommy." After that, she let her daddy transport her to the bathroom between tickles and laughter.

Emma's eyes followed them until they disappeared down the hallway. She sighed contentedly, a warm feeling spreading across her chest. This was her life now, full of domestic moments that she wouldn't change for anything.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted her just as she had stuck her finger in the buttercream that topped the cupcake. Confused, she walked to the door while licking her finger to remove the remains of the cream, wondering who could come to visit them at this time of day. Maybe it was some neighbor who needed a favor, she thought as she opened the door.

It wasn't a neighbor, but a boy of about ten who was waiting in the hallway.  A sinking feeling settled low in her stomach when her gaze met the boy's.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Emma Swan?"

_Emma Swan-Jones, actually_ , but the child didn't need to know. Maybe it was a special glow in the boy's eyes, or maybe his hopeful smile, whatever it was, she had the feeling that her life was about to change forever. Emma held her breath as her heart tightened in anticipation before uttering aloud a question she sensed would be decisive. "Yeah, who are you?"

"My name is Henry. I'm your son."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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